


Gloss on My Lips, Man on My Hips

by iwillpaintasongforlou



Series: Wrapped it Myself (even has a little bow on it) [4]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (and I'm not even straying from the canon on those tags fuck), Anyways, Bottom Harry, Christmas, Christmas Lingerie, Four Weddings, Liam is the bastard whose ass Louis is determined to kick in this competition, Lingerie, M/M, Niall is the casting director and Captain of the U.S.S. Larry, Power Bottom Harry, Say Yes To The Dress - Freeform, TLC, Top Louis, Weddings, Zayn is a wedding dress designer and looks good in a skirt, again not really that far from the canon, filthy smut sandwiched in wedding fluff, harry holds his own as an insufferable minx, harry rides louis, kind of obnoxiously sappy sorry weddings make me emotional, louis is a filthy menace, the whole world loves them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 12:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3119828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillpaintasongforlou/pseuds/iwillpaintasongforlou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Louis are cameramen for TLC that sort of accidentally turn into the sweetest sorta-celeb couple on the network's hit wedding shows. Harry gets a beautiful gown on <i>Say Yes to the Dress,</i> Louis gets entirely too competitive about being on <i>Four Weddings,</i> and somewhere in the middle of it all they slow down and remember what this wedding is really about... with the help of festive Christmas lingerie, of course. 'Tis the season, innit?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gloss on My Lips, Man on My Hips

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to tumblr user slowlyseducedbycurls, for her contribution to my Christmas bow fanart challenge!

It probably qualifies as ironic, the way that Harry and Louis met. They both got jobs as cameramen for TLC’s Say Yes to the Dress, and right from the start they were partners in crime; together they critiqued dresses, made predictions about who would choose which dress, and wrote a solid third of the puns used in the store assistants’ ‘confessionals.’ They were the kind of best friends where the instant you meet someone, you know. It was just right, from the get-go.

The ironic part was the bit where they fell in love on a show about people in love. It happened gradually, with snickers and high fives turning into giggles and kisses until they could hardly look at each other without heart-shaped eyes. Much like the friendship, it was just meant to be.

Naturally, working on a show where everyone necessarily was a bit of a romantic, once word got out that the guy on camera four and the guy on camera five were partners the entire crew was in love with their love. It was sort of like a fairytale, they said, meeting here on this show and realizing they’d found their mate. A true modern fairytale.

When Louis pops the question a year and a half into the relationship, everyone loses it.

Now the game is on, now they can finally enjoy their new favorite pastime (shipping Harry and Louis) in their own arena –weddings. Niall, a friendly Irish man who works in casting, immediately insists that they’ll do an episode of the show about them getting their tuxes, because nothing is half as heartwarming as an inside love story.

“Well what if I want to wear a wedding dress?” Harry asks, only half teasing. He’s been playing with the idea of wearing a dress to the wedding for a while now. It might be fun to get everyone in a tizzy like that, and besides, the fact that he’s a man shouldn’t prevent him from getting to wear beautiful things.

The question doesn’t appear to phase Niall in the least. “Even better. Heartwarming _and_ controversial? This is what casting staffers dream of.”

Which is how Harry winds up on the other side of the camera a few weeks later, blushing and nervous and bright-eyed with excitement at the idea of finding his dream gown (because Harry is an undeniable sentimentalist who believes that, like with partners, everyone has a gown that’s their ‘the one’). Louis tries to convince everyone that he should still be working the camera for this episode, but Harry sticks out his lip and pouts, “But I want you to be on the show with me, Lou! What if I need an expert opinion on whether my bum looks good? You know my bum better than anyone else,” and Louis is pretty much a goner after that.

When their consultant, a pretty girl named Eleanor, asks if Harry has any particular style or designer in mind, the duo answers in unison. “Zayn Malik.”

They’re in complete agreement on the fact that not only is Zayn one of the most pleasant and knowledgeable designers that appears on the show, his dresses are the best. Luckily for them, he’s even in the shop today, and like everyone else he’s more than happy to help their local celebrity couple.

He has three dresses picked out for Harry in less than five minutes, hanging them up in the dressing room as cameras zoom in on Harry’s face for his reaction. He only has eyes for one, though, a simple, elegant number with a slit in the skirt for a leg to peek out of and pockets hidden in the folds. The hemline of the bust was straight across, and from there up was sheer lace cut like a vest and trimmed with beading so delicate it would make even Harry’s broad shoulders look dainty.

“It’s perfect,” Harry whispers with delight, reaching out for it at once.

“It’s perfect!” Louis crows the instant Harry emerges from the dressing room with a smile so wide it might split his face. “Oh, babe, you look gorgeous.”

The cameras can’t possibly miss the sparkle in both men’s eyes. Zayn steps in with a proud smirk. “Here, I can pin it up some for you so you have a better idea of how it’ll fit in the bust.”

“Is it weird for you to see one of your dresses on a man’s body?” Harry asks curiously, watching Zayn pinch and pin fabric all around him. “I mean obviously it’s not what you intended.”

Zayn shrugs with no small amount of nonchalance. “People should wear what they like, and what looks good on them. Who gives a fuck if it isn’t conventional? Personally,” he adds in a whisper, leaning close enough that the microphones are sure to miss it, “I look fantastic in a skirt.”

The dress looks even better when it’s pinned to fit, and Louis beckons one of the cameramen closer. “John, bring 2 closer. Get right behind him and bring it in tight on his shoulders. Your shoulders look so sexy, baby.”

“This is the one,” Harry says authoritatively. “I don’t need to see any others, I already know that this is it.”

Eleanor grins. “Are you sure? You still have plenty of time, we could get some more for you just to see –”

“I’ve seen almost every episode of this show,” Harry interrupts. “Enough episodes to know that there’s no sense in spending hours looking for perfection when you’ve already found it. It’s like Louis. When it’s right, you feel it.”

John on camera 2 fake retches silently, Louis beams, and Eleanor just nods and asks the trademark question. “Of course,” Harry answers calmly. “I’m saying yes to the dress!”

It was fun, having their fifteen minutes of fame, but the hordes of adoring fans behind the scenes at TLC were bound and determined to get Harry and Louis their full hour. One too many times Niall caught them bent over a book of fabric samples or color swatches and heard that surprisingly, it was _Louis_ who was doing most of the wedding planning. “This is no laughing matter, planning a wedding is very intense,” Louis insists when confronted. “This is the day I’m going to marry the love of my life. Everything has to be _perfect.”_

“You ought to be on Four Weddings,” Niall cackles, and it’s all downhill from there.

Niall talks to the casting director for Four Weddings and before long they’ve pulled together a special episode of Four Weddings in which it’s the grooms that compete –including TLC’s own Louis Tomlinson. At first Louis isn’t so keen on the idea –turning his wedding into a competition feels like missing the point a bit, doesn’t it? –but then Niall says that Louis is just afraid he won’t win and oh it is _so_ on right now.

…………………

Fall passes in a blur of wedding preparations and then the weddings themselves start. Louis and Harry, with their date in mid-January, are the last to go. Christmas interrupts the wedding frenzy, and while the lights and the cameras can be rather fun especially on this side of them, it’s also nice to just be able to spend Christmas day to themselves.

“Merry Christmas, fiancé,” Harry says sweetly, bringing his nearly empty mug of hot chocolate up to Louis’ and clinking it in toast. They’ve already decimated their presents to one another, meager though they are in the pre-wedding poverty, and are sitting in a minefield of wrapping paper on the living room floor. “Feels weird, that you still aren’t my husband. With how much we talk about the wedding, we ought to have been married five times over by now.”

“Mmm, I agree. I’ve waited too damn long to call you my husband. Let’s go to the courthouse and get married right now!”

Harry doesn’t even believe Louis’ fake determination for a minute, just giggles and shakes his head. “Courthouse is closed, Lou. Plus, then that Liam guy would win the show.”

He’s referring to Liam Payne, the only guy on Four Weddings whose wedding might stand a chance against theirs, and Louis groans at the thought of losing to that smug, posh bastard. “Can’t have that happen under any circumstances, I can just imagine his smirk.” Louis rolls his head to the side to pout over at Harry. “I suppose I’ll have to survive three more week without you as my husband. I’ll have to fight very hard to stay away from the light.”

Again Harry giggles, and takes Louis’ mug from him to safely deposit both on the coffee table before climbing into Louis’ lap to face him. “Don’t die, Lou,” he murmurs teasingly, nuzzling into Louis’ neck. “I’m too young and pretty to be a widow. All of the other men would just want to take advantage of me and steal my maidenhood.”

“Well your maidenhood is safe with me,” Louis grins, “but you have to understand their perspective, love. It’s so much fun to take advantage of you, of course they’d be delighted to have the chance.”

He rolls his hips up so that they brush across Harry’s bum, the tiny friction making his cock tingle a little in interest. Harry makes a small noise of interest as well, leaning in to cup Louis’ face and kiss him slowly. “Rather you just kept me to yourself, really.”

His words, more even than the weight of him on Louis’ lap, makes Louis start to harden up in his Christmas pajamas. He kisses Harry back with enthusiasm, feeling the younger man shift around eagerly on top of him, until a few minutes pass and Louis has to pull back so he won’t accidentally derail the plan he’s had all week.

“Babe, you forgot to open one of the presents,” he pulls back to say, grinning when he sees Harry’s mixed irritation at being interrupted and confusion at Louis’ words. “That one, over there.”

Harry looks where he’s pointing and rolls his eyes. “That’s just an empty box I wrapped for decoration, idiot, there’s nothing in there.”

“There wasn’t, until I hid a present inside for you.”

“What if you’d forgotten about it and I’d packed that up for next year, or thrown it away?” Harry protests. “That’s a terrible plan.”

“Actually it’s a _brilliant_ plan, because I didn’t have to wrap it myself. And would you just open it already? Jesus Christ.”

Louis pushes at Harry’s hips until he laughs and half slides, half falls off of Louis’ lap and scoots over to the pretty box on the end table. He wiggles the lid off slowly, not wanting to upset the decorative wrapping, and reaches in for a moment to emerge with a handful of silky ribbon and a very confused expression.

“You got me… present wrapping supplies?” Harry guesses tentatively, brow furrowed. I mean I really could have used this more _before_ I did all the Christmas wrapping, but-”

“There’s instructions in the box,” Louis says helpfully.

He watches in anticipation as Harry pulls the rest of the ribbon from the box and then fishes around for the little sheet of paper that had slipped to the bottom. For a moment his brows stay pulled together in non-understanding, but after a few seconds they shoot up in surprise. “Oh,” he says as a blush starts along his neck. The hand clutching the ribbon absently rubs at the crotch of his sweats. _“Oh.”_

“How about you go upstairs and try out that new present of yours,” Louis says smugly, rising to his feet, “while I pick up a bit down here. Then I’ll join you up there… that sound good, love?”

Harry doesn’t answer, just makes his way awkwardly to standing and kisses Louis hungrily. “Please don’t take long,” he whispers quietly, before turning to hurry quickly up the stairs.

In reality, Louis doesn’t tidy a bit. It’s difficult to clean when you’ve got a boner and the knowledge that your fiancé is in your bedroom taking his clothes off. Instead he just sits and waits until the sound of shuffles and footsteps from upstairs have stopped, taking that to mean that Harry is settled and ready for him. Louis takes a deep breath and starts climbing the stairs to go in search of Harry.

He’s not laid out on the duvet like Louis had expected, but rather leaning against one of the columns of their four-poster bed with his legs crossed shyly and his hip popped like he knows exactly what that does for his figure (he definitely knows). “Is this a present for you or for me?” he teases as Louis stops in the doorway to devour Harry with his eyes.

“Me, probably,” Louis admits, making the rest of the trip over to Harry to kiss him with a soft moan. “How the fuck do you look that good in a ridiculous Christmas bow?”

The ribbon, as it turned out, was a festive piece of lingerie that was designed to be wrapped around the body and tied off in a giant bow right across the bust. It wraps around the chest multiple times as if to cover a woman’s breasts, then one tantalizing strip goes straight down the middle to disappear between his thighs, thin fabric doing little to hide the outline of a fully hard cock beneath.

“It’s probably less about the bow and more about the fact that the rest of me is naked,” Harry offers wisely, patting the bed until Louis hops up eagerly. “Although if you wanted to see me in less clothing, you could have just asked. You didn’t have to interrupt me and make me get off your lap. I was having a lot of fun there.”

Harry moves to get right back into that previous position, straddling Louis’ lap where he’s sat on the middle of the bed, brushing their clothed crotches together. It’s barely any kind of contact but Louis’ eyelashes flutter at the sensation, seeming overwhelmed by all of the skin and silk in his lap. He props himself up on his hands in an effort not to touch, letting Harry grip Louis’ shoulders and swivel his hips however he pleased.

A smirk begins to grow on Harry’s face as he starts to hum, a tune that Louis can’t quite recognize through the ever-thickening fog in his brain. It isn’t until he starts to sing that Louis catches on. “Santa baby, slip a sable under the tree for me,” Harry croons, fingertips running down Louis’ jaw ever so lightly. “Been an awful good boy, Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight.”

If the teasing little figure eights of Harry’s body on his weren’t enough to make Louis hard, the words certainly were. One hand slips up to cradle the small of Harry’s waist without even thinking, though Harry doesn’t seem to mind. “Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing- a ring,” he skips ahead, lifting the ring finger of his left hand to Louis’ lips and feeling Louis’ stuttered exhale before he eagerly begins to suck. “I don’t mean on the phone, Santa baby,” Harry continues, pulling his finger back slowly and bringing it behind him to push aside the ribbon covering his hole, “so hurry down the chimney tonight.”

From this angle Louis can’t see much of where Harry’s finger is pressing inside of himself, but he knows the moment it does because he can see Harry’s face draw up in concentration as he focuses on opening himself up. Louis leans up and kisses Harry softly, both to stop him from chewing his lip in half and to distract him from the stretch. For a moment it works, Harry’s pleased little noises getting faster and easier, but then with a frustrated huff Harry pulls back his hand and starts to climb off Louis’ lap altogether.

“Baby, baby, where are you going?” Louis protests at once, hands scrabbling uselessly at Harry’s retreating body. “You want me to do it? Is that it? I will, just c’mere-”

“I’m just getting the lube, Lou, relax,” Harry laughs, returning to bed with a bottle in hand. “Unless you _want_ me to spend forever trying to do it with spit, in which case we can certainly drag this out into another twenty minutes of waiting.”

“No, no, lube is good,” Louis quickly complies, smiling as he lays back on the bed.

Harry is already crawling back towards him, but this time when he straddles Louis it’s facing the opposite way. For one delightful moment Louis thinks Harry might sit on his face, might let Louis rim him a bit until his mouth is full of the taste of Harry and Harry can take that second finger easily, but then Harry settles onto all fours for a brief second before bringing one hand back to tease lube-slick fingers at his rim.

This angle is _much_ better for Louis to watch, to see those long, slender fingers working in and out, all shiny with lube and tendons working beneath smooth skin. It’s obscene to watch, really, absolutely filthy, and it draws a little moan from Louis’ lips before he awkwardly squirms out of his bottoms and starts to tug gently at his cock to get some relief from all the teasing.

The curviness of Harry’s bum makes it near impossible for the ribbon to stay pushed to the side, gradually sliding back towards where Harry’s fingers are hard at work no matter how many times Louis reaches up to helpfully adjust it for him. Finally Louis just reaches down between their torsos and tugs at one end of the ribbon, unraveling the bow until the whole contraption can be pulled gently from Harry’s body.

“Do you know how long it took me to get that on?” Harry grumbles, though he doesn’t stop working three fingers into himself. “Wasted effort apparently.”

“No, trust me, I’ll be remembering that mental image forever,” Louis assures him. “Besides, like you said, it was mostly the naked bits that I was interested in, anyways. Are you ready yet, love? You’re killing me here.”

“Does it _look_ like I’m ready?” Harry wickedly replies, like Louis hasn’t been paying devout attention to the sight of him fucking back onto his fingers. Louis’ dick twitches in his hand, drawing a little laugh from Harry. “Guess that answers that question.”

It should probably be ungraceful, the way Harry has to shuffle around on top of Louis to line himself up correctly, but Louis is far too excited about feeling Harry’s body tight around him to see a thing but his angel of a fiancé looking stunning as he kneels atop Louis’ lap. Louis has one hand around his cock to hold it steady, the other resting on Harry’s hip so he can thumb at the dimples that sometimes appear at the bottom of his spine. Harry leans forward to hold onto Louis’ thighs for balance, then sinks down onto Louis’ length with a sigh that sounds just like relief.

Louis doesn’t need to help him along; Harry’s always been a masterpiece in riding Louis, strong thighs pumping away as Louis moans and he himself pants for air, refusing to stop until Louis had either peaked or had flipped them over and fucked him into the mattress. It means Louis’ hands are free to caress the beautiful planes of Harry’s back, watching those muscles ripple and flex as he works himself on Louis’ cock. The same shoulders that look so dainty and divine in a wedding dress look broad and powerful now.

The thought of Harry in his dress makes Louis feel a little warmer somewhere in his belly, and he taps one hand on Harry’s waist to get his attention. “Baby, flip around, will you? Wanna look at you. Wanna watch you.”

Of course Louis’ already doing both of those things, but Harry doesn’t put up an argument. He lifts gingerly off of Louis’ cock and turns around as gracefully as he can, reseating himself once more as soon as he’s facing Louis. This angle is just as good, maybe better in the way that Louis can see angelic face in addition to heavenly body, cheeks all flushed and eyelashes fluttering as Harry speeds up his rhythm on Louis’ lap.

It must mean that he’s starting to get close, this pickup in pace, and Louis is more than eager to give Harry a helping hand. He reaches out and takes Harry’s cock in his palm, relishing Harry’s satisfied little smile, and waits a second to make sure the rhythm is just right before he starts to work his fist over Harry’s length. It has just enough lube from Harry’s own hand to make the slide easier, letting everything glide perfectly as Harry starts to frantically bounce between Louis’ cock and his hand in a way that Louis knows means it won’t be long at all.

Sure enough, as Louis’ wrist starts to move faster Harry gets distracted in the rise and fall of his hips, bucking up into Louis’ hand until just the tip is still inside him, stomach clenching and breath held in anticipation until he croaks a pleased cry and comes, spilling all over Louis’ fist and his torso below as he slams his hips back down to be fully seated on Louis’ cock once more. The orgasm makes him clench tight, startling a pleased sort of gurgle out of Louis, and Harry fights to keep his hips moving in the aftershocks. He’s grinding now more than actually lifting his hips up off of Louis’ lap, but Louis doesn’t seem to mind, panting and digging his fingertips into Harry’s thighs.

“Babe, m’gonna-”

“Go ahead,” Harry interrupts Louis, swiping his ring finger through his mess on Louis’ stomach and pressing it to the man’s open mouth. “Fill me up, Lou.”

Louis obeys, sucking Harry’s finger into his mouth and bucking his hips up into Harry as he comes, messy hands tugging Harry down to kiss him even as he draws his knees up to keep the two of them close. “Fuck, baby, I love you,” Louis murmurs a little dazedly, kissing Harry between each attempt at drawing in sufficient air. “I love you so much.”

“Maybe you ought to marry me, if you love me that much,” Harry teases with a wink, and Louis is such an absolute goner for him that he might do just that.

…………………

Liam Payne is so totally going down.

The wedding with Harry was gorgeous, and there is absolutely nothing in the world that could compare to the overwhelming joy Louis felt when he watched Harry walk down the aisle grinning like a fool and blushing like –well, like a bride. But next to the way his heart fluttered when Louis heard his now-husband say _I do,_ the next best thing might be watching that smug little bastard weep.

(Liam, that is, not Harry.)

Louis, Liam, and the two other grooms are lined up in the foyer of the fancy fake mansion set of Four Weddings, sipping champagne and trying to look casual. They’ve already done their confessionals talking about how they all _genuinely_ think their wedding was the best, and they can’t wait to spend the all-expense-paid honeymoon relaxing with their various husbands and wives. Louis feels very proud of himself for not expressing that he’s looking forward to spending said honeymoon with Harry tied to a soft bed somewhere, preferably with no clothes on, and possibly with whipped cream on various parts of his body. That seems like the kind of thing they might have to edit out anyways.

Now it’s the moment of truth, and the host is rambling on about how whichever spouse walks through the door in just a moment will indicate which of the four weddings had the highest overall score and will send that happy couple on their dream honeymoon. All four grooms look expectantly at the door, breath held in anticipation –

Louis knows it’s Harry coming through the door before it’s even opened, because there’s a scuffle and a thud as someone trips and then a deep, molasses-slow voice apologizing (to the door) in a downright endearing way. Then the door twists open and Harry pops his curly head through, flushed with embarrassment and carrying a bouquet of magnolias that match the pocket square of his suit. He’s still giggling at Louis’ victory screech when Louis runs up and launches himself into Harry’s arms, trusting that he’ll hold on so that Louis can press his hands to Harry’s cheeks and pepper his face with excited kisses.

(Harry holds on, of course he holds on. For the entire, inappropriately smug full minute of victory snogging. He’s rather in love with this idiot.)

The envelope Harry comes bearing tells them they’re going to Cabo (“It’s warm there, Lou… what do you think their laws about nudity on the beach are?” “Dunno, but I’ve always fancied being an international criminal!”), and a few consoling handshakes with the losing grooms later, Harry and Louis are strolling hand in hand out into the night towards the limousine that waits to whisk them away.

“D’you know what the best part of this is? Other than the free honeymoon, I mean,” Louis asks as they walk, seemingly heedless of the camera crew following them.

Harry smiles indulgently and opens the limo door. “What’s that, Lou?”

 _“Winning._ Liam Payne can suck my dick!”

He says it quiet enough that the mics might not be able to pick it up, but they definitely capture Harry’s booming laugh as he slides into the seat next to Louis. “No he can’t,” Harry teases as they settle in. “I put a ring on it, remember? Only I get to do that.”

Louis laughs too and they share a wild, sloppy kiss that probably won’t make it on television, but it doesn’t bother either man all that much. They have the thrill of victory, and they have each other, and as far as either one of them is concerned that’s pretty much all they could want of a beautiful night.

_Edit courtesy of slowlyseducedbycurls \ tumblr_

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the delay, I got really ill and haven't been able to stay awake for more than a few hours at a time for the last week or so? Weird ........... BUT I've been using my moments of clarity to write this cutie patootie for you so just... hold onto that Christmas spirit??? First week of January still counts you know your tree is still up shhhh
> 
> canonlarry | tumblr


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